


The Wind Blows Wild

by SilverDagger



Category: Final Fantasy VI
Genre: Comfort, F/F, Ficlet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-09
Updated: 2014-02-09
Packaged: 2018-01-11 17:14:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1175709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverDagger/pseuds/SilverDagger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's been five years since the world ended. But worlds, like everything else, can be rebuilt.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wind Blows Wild

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Final Fantasy Kiss Battle on Dreamwidth, for the prompt _The Good Old Days_.

It's been five years since the world ended, and Terra is mostly happy.

You wouldn't think the would had ended, looking around, and maybe it hasn't. Rain still falls. Green things still grow, and die, and grow again. That, and dirt, and time, are all it takes to make a world, so even if it's ended, Terra supposes, surely they've found another, just as good.

On summer evenings she stays outside, watching children run barefoot and heedless through the falling dusk, chasing the clouds of lightning bugs that dance just beyond her porch. There's nothing worth fearing in that dark, she knows. Not even animals, so close to town.

Except that there are nights when the wind seems to blow from a different place, wild and cold, carrying the scent of dry grass and fallen leaves. Nights when she steps outside and feels that wind pull at her, electric potential crackling along her nerves and through her hair, prickling at the back of her neck. And somewhere in the wind, the darkness, it seems sometimes she hears the echo of some familiar resonance carried from elsewhere, like a pealing bell, a strange reverberation that calls to her and will not let her go.

And on those nights, she stands, facing the woods with her back to the village, and she listens for other sounds – the snap of a branch underfoot, a rustle of footsteps in dry leaves. Celes might sneak up on her, one day, if she ever tried. She never does.

Terra doesn't move, doesn't look around, lets Celes come up behind her and lay hands on her shoulders, as she has done before, as she will do again. No threat. She leans back into that touch – strong, solid, palms calloused from sword work and repairs – and lets Celes rub small circles into her skin, drawing the tension out of muscles still wound tight, poised to fly.

Usually, they do not speak, not until they find themselves back inside the house beneath cedarwood rafters, amid a tangle of quilts and the new world they've made for each other. This time, Terra hears her name on Celes's lips, half a question, responds with a soft sound of wordless assent.

“Do you miss it?” Celes asks.

Terra feels a shiver run through her body, hearing the word unspoken, knowing there is only one answer that she can give.

“Of course.”

Celes's hands cease their circles on her shoulders, rest lightly. The night is quiet, except for the sound of wind through trees, and it feels like they might be the only ones alive, or at least the only ones not dreaming. Celes steps closer, and Terra can feel the rhythm of her breath, the contours of her body, soft curves and unyielding muscle and the infinite fragility of bone. It's enough, she thinks. All she needs. All that matters.

“Don't go yet,” Celes whispers into the fall of Terra's hair, and when Terra turns to her, finds enough of her heart to smile and enough of her voice to say “not a chance,” she means it. And when she bends in to seal her words with a kiss, feels Celes's mouth open beneath her own, she thinks not of high, lonely, lost places and distant stars but earth and grass and a home built with two pairs of hands, and it seems like a promise she can keep.


End file.
